


We'll lay here (for years or for hours)

by Jumbledbyrd



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Character Study, F/M, Fluff, Gardens & Gardening, Hair Braiding, Nightmares, Other, Post-Campaign 1 (Critical Role), Sleepy Cuddles, This is really just a lot of my headcanons about vm, but the only actually referenced relationship is percy/vex, but vax is there because i said so and im the author, polymachina if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-08-13 16:43:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20177497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jumbledbyrd/pseuds/Jumbledbyrd
Summary: Vox Machina have trouble sleeping, and when you've lived a life so rife with danger around every corner, why wouldn't you? So it's just as well they have each other.





	We'll lay here (for years or for hours)

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from hozier's "In a week", because honestly, I've just been on a Hozier kick lately and I was listening to it as I finished up this fic

Things have changed in so many ways. Things have stayed the same in so many more. They’re all back in Greyskull Keep, and though it’s been years since they have all been in the one place, they still have many of the same habits.

It starts with Vex. She wakes in the middle of the night, breaths coming sharp and short, the name of her brother poised on the tip of her tongue. She waits for a moment, hands rubbing small circles into the sheets of her bed. She’s alone, Percival probably down in his workshop, despite the fact that its well on its way to morning.

It’s not unusual for her to seek out Vax. They shared a sleeping space more times than she could keep track of when they were kids, then again when they were barely teenagers seeking each other’s comfort in a new city. Even once they had been a part of Vox Machina, it hadn’t been unusual for one of them to have a nightmare, and seek out the other. Of course, it became less common the more they came to trust their party, and even find love for them, but it had happened on occasion.

So, Vex gathers herself, quickly pulling her hair back into a braid, and lights an oil lamp, finding her way to Vax’s room. It isn’t a particularly long journey but the stone floors are cold on her feet, sending a chill up her spine in the cool night air. The keep was smaller than she had remembered, though after spending time in Whitestone castle, most places felt smaller than she remembered. She knocks on the door, would rather risk a grumpy brother than a dagger to the throat.

Moments later, and her twin is leaning against the door frame, his own braids a mess, and with half-lidded eyes, he invites her in. He wraps an arm around her shoulders, leaning his weight on her, and the pair collapse into the bed, pulling furs on top of themselves. Vex situates herself behind her brother, chin hooked over his shoulder, and an arm over his side. She gets a mouthful of beads, and pushes his hair out of her mouth. Gross.

Within minutes, the pair are asleep once again.

The next to join them is Percival. A long day that had turned into a long night of being down in his workshop, and he burns his fingertips for the third time before he takes a moment to consider the fact that a normal person would be sleeping about now. This is only consolidated by the fact that his hands are shaking slightly.

Deciding against his better judgement, he puts off cleaning as a task for his future self, or at least, himself in the morning after what’s left of the night of rest. He stalks the hallways, steps light, years of practice trained into him, it could be from sneaking around as a child, could be from sharing a space with Vax for so long, it could be from a time that he cannot remember.

He stops in his room first. It doesn’t get used for very much these days even when he’s in the keep, whether that’s due to him spending his nights in his workshop, or the fact that Vex always has the warmer bed. Truth be told, the half-elf had always run warmer than Percy, who perpetually had cold hands and toes, to the dismay of anyone who had shared a bed with him.

In his room he toes off his shoes, and sheds his shirt for something looser, and slightly warmer. His pants go next, exchanged for a pair of drawstring pants, dark blue and warm even on some of the colder nights of Emon. His glasses are folded up, and slid into a pocket on the shirt, likely sewn for that very reason.

Next, he visits Vex’s room, but quickly takes note of the fact that she’s not there. He sits on the bed for a moment, and the spot is still warm, so she can’t be too far gone. He recalls the times she’s previously been out of bed at this hour, and decides to risk his luck walking down the hall and gently pushing open Vax’s door.

There he finds the near-identical twins, wrapped around each other like some kind of squid, and Percy feels his heart warm. Truthfully, there are not many people in this world that he truly holds dear, but these are two of them. If he takes a moment to think about it, he knows in his heart, that his love for them, even Vex whom he admits he’s been slightly more than platonic with, goes somewhere deeper than just romantic, or that of close friends. He doesn’t much fancy himself to be someone that believes in soulmates, or predestination, and the gods know that he loathes the idea that he is some part of a grand scheme. But at times like this, late at night, when all is peaceful and he doesn’t have it in his heart to feel too negatively about anything, he wonders where he would be without these people that he calls his family.

But that’s too much thinking, and too much melancholy for this time of night, so he finds himself walking across the room, climbing over the twins, nearest to where the large bed is pushed against the wall. He curls his long limbs up, slotting himself in behind Vex’ahlia. She makes a noise of protest briefly, when she feels his cold hands on her shoulders, but a murmured “It’s only me dear” has her settled once more. Pelor knows that he’ll probably be awake in an hour, choking on part of her braid, but he allows himself to drift off regardless, arms enclosed around one of the people he loves, and another not even out of reach. A large majority of the rest, he knows, are within this building, safe and sound.

Scanlan has never been a sound sleeper. When he was a child, much of his time was spent looking after either his mother, or himself. When he was older, keeping himself on the streets, he learned quick that you don’t let your guard down. Even once he had joined a troupe of those he trusted, he hadn’t ever been able to sleep soundly, plagued by nightmares, or just never quite tired enough to fall asleep.

In the keep, he spends many of his nights in his room, the darkness lit up by candles at a small desk. He spends his time writing letters, to Kaylie, trading messages back and forth of the escapades they’ve each gotten up to in their time apart. He writes a lot of songs, most of them simple and something that he can hum to himself, not nearly flashy enough to bother showing the others.

Tonight, he feels an emptiness. He feels it often when he’s by himself. Spending so much time in the company of others, in taverns and bars where there’s always noise, he feels like something is missing when all is quiet. Like a song with a verse missing, that changes the meaning ever so slightly, just enough to set it all off kilter.

So, he walks the halls, tapping a rhythm on the walls, and checks that everything is in place. He starts downstairs, checking the doors are all shut, and feels slightly better when he sees the guard posted at the main entrance (it’s more out of habit these days, any one of them could take on a bump in the night without even blinking). He leaves the guard with a silent nod, and restlessness assuaged slightly, he goes back up the stone staircase.

He finds that he does to Vax’s room without even thinking. As much as he tries to convince himself otherwise, he doesn’t want to be alone tonight, and he knows that he’s likely to find company there. He tells himself it’s because Vax understands not wanting to be alone, and it comes without the coldness of Percy (who is usually accompanied by Vex anyway), the risk of being squashed by Grog, or the risk of a lecture from either Keyleth or Pike.

He knocks on the door, and when he doesn’t get an answer, he pushes it open anyway, because it’s been years since Vax has bothered to lock his door when they don’t have company. He’s greeted with the sight of Vax facing him, being curled around by his twin, who has an arm wrapped around him like she’s afraid to let go, but an otherwise calm face. Behind her is Percival, who is slightly less clingy, but still has an arm over Vex’ahlia’s shoulder, not doing anything to keep her masses of hair away from his face.

Scanlan waits just a moment, then closes the door behind himself, and crawls into the bed. He situates himself against Vax, chest to chest, and curls in under his chin. It takes a moment, but Vax resettles, an arm coming up to rest across Scanlan’s shoulders, and his legs straighten slightly from their near foetal position, giving Scanlan a little bit more room.

The room is quiet, but doesn’t hold the deafening silence of much of the rest of the Keep, the deep breaths of Vax above him, and the quiet snores of Percy as he gets another mouthful of hair. It isn’t perfect, but it’s enough to allow him to drift off.

Pike, for all the light that was in her life brought there by Sarenrae and by her family, was fond of the night. She liked the cool, calmness that is usually heralded, the peace after battle, and the promise of a new day.

That’s her justification as to why she so often stays up at night. It isn’t the nightmares. It’s not the anxiety gnawing at the back of her mind that there’ll eventually be another night that she has to be woken up from sleep to revive a member of her family and _what if its tonight, I have to be ready just in case_. It’s not that, she promises, she just likes the night.

She finds herself down in the garden tonight, tending to a few of the flowers that look halfway to death (because even though they pay guards to be there even when they themselves aren’t, they don’t have a gardener). She doesn’t have the same skill or talent as Keyleth, not by a longshot, but it helps her to calm down. She thinks she does an alright job of it, and sometimes these little guys, hidden under the bigger, more colourful plants, get left to the wayside and she takes it upon herself to be sure they stay alive.

But it’s getting late, even by her standards of what her not-insomnia has brought her. She sneaks up to her room, gaining a nod from one of the guards on the way (and there’s something in their eyes, but she’s too tired to try and work it out).

Her room is somewhere she doesn’t really spend a lot of time. Between time spent out adventuring, being in Whitestone, and long nights at the various temples, she spends barely any time in here. It’s small, quaint one might be able to say, and sparsely decorated. Even after this long, it feels like she’s only just moved in.

She takes off her shoes, and sits on the bed, and just stares at the wall for a moment, before she decides to go and find one of the others. She can already tell it’s going to be one of the nights where she ends up in someone else’s bed anyway, so she figures she might as well start out there.

Her search begins in Percival’s room, not who she’d usually seek out, but sometimes it’s nice to be held by someone so much taller than you. She tells herself this instead of thinking of his revivals. He’s alright, and he’s going to stay alright, and maybe she still has nightmares about it, but who wouldn’t? But he isn’t there. Her heart sinks, and for the briefest moment panic rises up in her chest, before logic takes over, and figures that she cannot be the only one to seek the comfort of others.

She goes to Scanlan’s room next, because he is the next one she worries about. But the bard is also not in his room, and she sighs. She leaves, closing the door behind her with a quiet creak. She leans against it for just a moment, composing her thoughts, before going to Vax’s room.

There she finds a significant portion of her small family. Vax and Vex are curled up together, Scanlan tucked into Vax’s front, and Percy is behind Vex, long limbs curled up around the other three. She knows they all get like this sometimes, and though they rarely speak about these nights come morning, she thinks it’s good for them. To know they trust each other enough to sleep like this, so curled up and trusting.

She climbs over the twins, to the far side of the bed, and squirms her way in behind Vex, curling up between her and Percy. It’s already starting to get cramped, and if she’s right by the morning it’ll just be a sweaty mess, but she loves it. Her head is up on Percy’s arm, and her back is pressed against Vex.

She falls asleep knowing that she never has to face the darkness alone, not while she has her family.

Keyleth wakes in the middle of the night with a start. She’s covered in a cold sweat, and it’s enough to make her light up one of her hands, not even out of her own head enough to light one of the candles beside her bed instead.

She’s had a, a, she’s not sure if it was a dream or a memory or a vision or a gods know what else that could affect her like this these days, but she’s not going to get back to sleep any time soon after that. She sits up, brushes back her hair, fingers falling through air where’s she’s cut it short again (she likes it short, and it doesn’t get in the way as much) and right now she wishes she still had enough hair to sit and braid it elaborately, the motions repetitive and soothing and usually enough to put her back to sleep.

Some nights she just needs space to calm down and stop. Tonight is not one of them. She shimmies the rest of the way out of bed, slips on a long shirt, and opens her door. The halls are empty, and the floor is cool enough that she doesn’t want to stand in one place too long. She tries not to think about the dream (vision, whatever) and as she paces the hallway quickly, listening briefly into each doorway, she can tell where her friends are.

She opens the door, and is met with the sight of almost everyone. Grog appeared to still be in his own room, but he wasn’t often one to have trouble sleeping. By now, the blankets are stuck somewhere between halfway down the bed, and being hogged by Vex, who appears to be trying to cocoon herself and Vax within them.

The bed’s reaching the tipping point of being too many people, but she doesn’t care. She situates herself behind Vax, and sits with her legs crossed, his head just shy of being in her lap. She starts by just playing with his hair, running her hands idly through it, and before she realises what she’s doing, she starts working on all the intricate braids and styles she previously did on her own hair.

His hair isn’t quite the same, not in texture, or length, but it’s a close enough approximation that her fingers make the movements with barely any thought from her, and she works her way around the beads that are already in his hair. It’s just busywork, but she feels herself relaxing, and eventually, she lays down and just wraps an arm around him. She’s taller than him, by a fairly significant amount, but she has to manoeuvre around Scanlan anyway, so it’s not too bad.

Grog hears a lot of things. He doesn’t always understand them, but people take it for granted, and he hears a _lot_ of things that other people probably don’t want him to hear. Tonight though, all he hears is the soft footsteps of his friends. He can tell all of them apart, and he’s pretty sure he’s heard everyone walking about tonight, as he’s in bed looking-not-seeing the ceiling.

He can’t sleep. Usually he hits the bed and is gone within seconds, but tonight, every little sound seems to set him off. He wants to get up and pace, but there’s a gut-feeling that tells him that someone could sneak up behind him, catch him by surprise, and that at least if he’s here, nobody can get the drop on him.

His heart definitely doesn’t race when he hears each of his friends walking the halls. Because he’s Grog Strongjaw and nothing can scare him, and their Vox Machina and none of his friends are stupid enough to get snuck up on.

He tells himself he’s just getting up to check on them, just in case. It’s not long until he finds himself pushing open the door to Vax’s room, finding all of his friends curled together and sleeping. Something tugs in his chest, and he smiles.

He knows how much it means to have each other’s backs, but he’s pretty sure that nobody meant it like this. Still, he doesn’t want to leave. No matter how much the voice in the back of his head tells him that he should just go back to bed.

Gently, he shifts Keyleth from where she is on the edge of the bed, and then picks up Scanlan when he finds him, dropping the two of them back on his chest when he not-quite flops onto the bed.

It’s less quiet here, Percy snoring and Keyleth always talks when she sleeps, sometimes quietly, but sometimes loud enough to wake them all up before she’s even woken up herself. The twins breathe heavily and in the dark Grog can’t tell which is which.

Slowly, the voice in the back of his head shuts up, and he feels safe and warm, knowing that all of his friends are close enough that he could protect them easily.

Vox Machina, as a group, have never been easy sleepers. Rough childhoods, numerous siblings, travelling by night, compounded by a lifetime of adventuring. Needing to be awake and ready to defend themselves (and eventually, their friends and family) at a moments notice. Nightmares, of threats both past and defeated, or those simply existing in the confines of their own minds. Not wanting to be vulnerable, exposing themselves by falling asleep. Travelling meant that they got used to having someone sleep at their back, and knowing someone was keeping watch over them.

But sometimes, all is right in their small corner of the world, and somehow, they manage to get a few hours of uninterrupted sleep.

They wake slowly, sweaty and aching where they’d had to contort into weird shapes to all fit in the small bed, or where they’ve had someone else laying on them for a half a night. It’s disorienting at first, as it usually is, but eventually it’s smiles all round, and the promise of breakfast has them all shifting, letting the people stuck in the middle of the bed out. And life goes on, as it always does.

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this not long after c1 ended, and wrote it mostly as a way to help myself fall asleep at night, and it kind of turned into a character study/me projecting/putting my headcanons together. I guess if you read this whole thing then you probably know way too much about me as a person but whoops


End file.
